Business Before Pleasure
by clairvoyantPlume
Summary: Iz Swan's life couldn't be more normal... well, as normal as life gets for the self-proclaimed most important female in a male-dominated mafia who steal from the rich, and keep what they have for themselves. She wants a priceless vase from 35 year old widower Edward Cullen. She needs his trust, but what happens when she steals his affections?
1. Chapter 1

_Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death._

A tear ran down my cheek as Romeo drank the poison, pressing his lips to his supposedly dead love for the last time. I brushed it away quickly with the back of my hand, unable to find the box of tissues that were usually on the couch with me. I leaned my head back and sighed. I must have been the only person in this town who was spending their Friday night watching Romeo and Juliet for the hundredth time.

The familiar end credits rolled across the screen. I yawned and got up to make some tea. I walked to the minuscule kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. I reached for a mint green box filled with raspberry tea, grabbing a cookie from a half-empty packet of Chips Ahoy that had been lying on my countertop for a few weeks.

This had been my Friday ritual for the past two months, ever since I dumped my douchebag boyfriend. He was only interested in one thing, and it wasn't too hard to guess what. We'd been together for all of three days when he first wanted to drop all boundaries. And, like the idiot I was, I did. It went downhill from there. He expected me to think he was the greatest man in the world and hang on his every word, even though he was an unemployed alcoholic who spent the nights he wasn't with me at a poker game or a strip club. As soon as I realized what he was, about a month into the relationship, I dropped him like a hot potato. He was the most controlling, egotistical man I'd ever been with. The last I'd heard, he was in the Caribbean with a naïve blond. I laughed dryly. Who would've thought that he'd have his life back together before me?

I placed my green mug on the coffee table while I sat by a shoebox full of DVDs, deciding which sappy romance I should watch next. I leaned my head against the wall as I searched through movies from Casablanca to The Notebook. I owned way too many movies, and most of them were romances.

I was trying to choose between my favorites, Pride and Prejudice and Gone with the Wind, when my phone beeped from the bedroom. It probably wasn't important, but I wanted to make sure, just in case. I dropped the two movies and walked to the cramped bedroom in my small one-bedroom apartment. My phone was exactly where I'd left it: in my jacket pocket on the door handle. I pulled it out and opened the message.

**Iz, the meeting's about to start. Where are you? -Jake**

Crap! He was the last person I'd expected to hear from. Jake was one of my "co-workers", if you could call what I do work. My family comes from a long line of mafia heads. My uncle, the oldest of his brothers, was the current leader, and all of his sons, my cousins, were members. It wasn't a family-run business, though. There was a small collection of tight-knit families who worked together. It was like a family business, though. The fathers would pass on their position to their sons, who would pass it on to their sons. I was one of the few female members, but, in my opinion, one of the most valuable. I had the ability to get anything I wanted from anyone.

Well, that is, if I remembered to be there. I quickly made up an excuse.

**Sorry! Stuck in traffic. Be there in ten.**

I pulled off my deep blue pajamas and scrambled towards my closet, looking for anything I could throw on. I found a casual black dress in the mass of clothes. I grabbed it and put it on. I tried to zip it as I looked for some shoes. I stepped into the first ones I found, a pair of tan three-inch heels. It was put together and comfortable, my favorite style. I didn't have time for makeup, so I grabbed a comb and some mascara and stuffed it into my purse, along with a bright yellow revolver, my favorite accessory. I pulled my trench coat over my shoulder as I grabbed my keys from the tray on the kitchen counter and ran out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, look. An update.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.**

* * *

I scrambled down the hallway, trying to reach the elevator before the doors closed. It was always busy on Fridays. People were going out to restaurants, bars, clubs, theaters, or the movies. It only took a few seconds for the elevator to completely fill up. And, despite my "career", I was horrible at running in heels. I tripped halfway to the elevator, my shoe coming off in the process. I stood up, not bothering to smooth my dress, and hobbled back for it. I contemplated just keeping it in my hand while I ran, but it would be more awkward trying to run when one foot was three inches taller than the other. I slipped the shoe back on my foot and continued to rush at a safe but hurried pace.

The other bad part about Fridays (besides spending every single one alone while the rest of my building went out on the town) was my neighbor, Mrs. Stanley. She lived a few doors down from me, and had taken on a sort of mother role, even though she was easily in her seventies. She heard how my ex—no, I could think his name. I wasn't that affected—Mike and I broke up, and was worried for me. She would drop by every night for the first week, checking on me and making sure I was okay. Of course, she refused to understand that I was perfectly fine, and that I was the one to dump Mike. Now, she kept her visits short and secret. She would come over every Friday and Saturday night and knock on the door to see if anyone was there. The first few times, I answered and let her come in. But after a while, I began to avoid her like the plague. I hadn't seen her for two weeks, and I think she knew I was hiding from her.

As I rushed down the hall, Mrs. Stanley opened the door and walked out into the hallway, blocking my path.

"Isabella!" She called out in a friendly voice. I could tell that she wanted to talk. Great.

"Not now, Mrs. Stanley. I'm running late." I tried to move to her left, but she mirrored my move, cutting me off. She appraised my appearance, smiling.

"You have a date! Oh, I'm so happy for you, dear. I know it's only been a month, but you've still been so lonely. I can tell. Who is he? Or she. You know I'm not one to judge." I could see where she would get that impression. I did seem dressed for a date. I opened my mouth to interrupt her rambling, but I decided to play along. Maybe if she thought I had a date she'd leave me alone.

"I don't know who he is. A friend set us up. And I'm running a bit late, so if you don't mind—" That was all it took.

"Oh, of course, dear." She stepped aside to let me pass. "Have fun. And don't forget to tell me everything when you come back." I didn't respond to that, too busy trying to make the elevator.

"Hold the elevator!" I called out, hoping someone would hear me. I was still less than halfway down the hall. I ran faster to the elevator, missing it by seconds. I swore, slamming my fists against the doors. I could've waited for it to come back up, but there were ten floors below me, and the elevator was bound to be intercepted in that time.

I slipped off my shoes, holding them in my hand, and scrambled to the stairs. I was much faster without my heels, so I made it down the stairs in few minutes, not stumbling once. I kept my shoes in my hand as I ran through the lobby and out the door. That was a bad choice. It had just stopped raining, and the dirt of the city was matted against the damp concrete. I hated the feel of the damp pavement, but I knew putting on my shoes now would be worse. I stepped towards the street.

"Taxi!" I hung out into the street, waving for a cab. I got one about a minute later, sliding into the back seat. With my luck today, I was glad I didn't drop anything into any puddles outside. I dropped my purse, coat, and shoes on the seat next to me, telling the driver the location of the meeting, the basement of a small community theater downtown. There was a box of tissues next to me. Someone must have left it there earlier. It was a gift from heaven. I wiped the bottom of my feet, getting the grime off. The cab parked in front of the theater, and I got out, tossing a twenty at him. I didn't want to wait for change. I was late enough as it is. I walked to the broken down theater, wondering what the meeting was for.


End file.
